


The Calling of the Shades

by feverbeats



Category: Harry Potter - Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-06-10
Updated: 2010-06-10
Packaged: 2017-10-10 01:18:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,301
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/93637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/feverbeats/pseuds/feverbeats
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"What do you know about Halloween?" Sirius asks.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Calling of the Shades

  
Sirius and Remus spend six Halloweens as friends before Sirius tells Remus about the old Halloween traditions.

On the first Halloween after they meet, they're not quite friends yet. They're eleven, and Sirius is still sharp around the edges. He wears his hair long and makes fun of Remus more often than he helps him with homework. Remus spends that Halloween crying in the bathroom because Sirius was half-intentionally cruel again.

After that, his Halloweens become steadily better every year, but when James talks about carving pumpkins when he was a kid, Sirius says nothing.

By the time they're seventeen, they're holding hands in the halls and Sirius has finally stopped needing to distance himself from every bit of Wizarding tradition.

"Hey," Sirius says the day before Halloween, when they're curled up on the common room, half-heartedly doing homework.

Remus glances up from his book. "Mm?"

"What do you know about Halloween?" Sirius asks. His eyes have gone dark and intense, so Remus knows this is important.

"I don't know," he says carefully. "It was originally, uh, a Celtic holiday called Samhain. It—"

"No," Sirius says, waving his hand in irritation. "I mean Wizarding Halloween."

"Same thing, isn't it?" Peter pipes up from his seat on the rug in front of the fire. He tucks his quill behind his ear and looks to James for confirmation.

James nods, looking perplexed. "As far as I know, yeah. What do you mean, Padfoot?"

Sirius twitches a lock of hair, now much shorter than it was when he was eleven, behind his ear. "Well, it wasn't always like that. Years and years ago, it used to be really different. And some old families still celebrate the old way."

James laughs uncomfortably. "What, you mean human sacrifices or something? Seems like the sort of thing your family would go in for."

Sirius nods in acknowledgment at his family's madness, but Remus can tell he's not really amused. "No, it's nothing like that. Just some ritual stuff. I'm not really sure where it came from. Look, I don't know why I brought it up."

Before anyone can say anything else, Sirius has leapt from his seat on the couch and bounded away up the stairs.

"Well," James says, putting his parchment down, "He's off on one of his mad things again. Best to just let him be."

But Remus can't just let him be, as he's discovering more and more ever day. He hates rocking the boat, so maybe he's learning to hate the part of himself that only wants to pry deeper when Sirius is hurt and twitchy and on fire like this. He isn't sure if that's recklessness, or just caring. It doesn't make much difference at the moment.

When he comes into the dorm room, Sirius is sitting in bed, shoulders tensed. He's not even pretending to read.

Remus crosses the room, toes curling in socks full of holes on the cold stone floor. "Hey." He sits next to Sirius, making sure he's out of punching range. "Want to tell me about Wizarding Halloween?"

Sirius smiles. "Yeah. I guess I do, at that." He laughs, sounding surprised with himself. "But it's not the sort of thing you can really tell. I'll have to show you. If you trust me, that is." His eyes flash merrily.

Remus is pretty sure it's a joke, but he thinks about it seriously. Then he decides all at once that it's too late if he _doesn't_ trust Sirius. He's been following him, if not quite blindly, then at least with his eyes pinched nearly shut, for over six years now. "Of course," he says.

*

"You look good."

Remus laughs nervously. "Yeah? Good. I feel like an idiot." He tugs at the plain white mask Sirius provided him with earlier in the day.

Sirius smiles. "Seriously, you're fine. It's better than dressing up as a clown or some rubbish like that."

Remus privately isn't quite sure, but he nods. "So," he says, "The costumes. I looked at a book about this last night after you fell asleep on my arm, and I think I remember my dad telling me . . ."

Sirius claps Remus on the shoulder. "Getting told about it doesn't count. And neither does reading about it. You have to see it for real. This is real Halloween. This is what I used to do."

Remus shivers, not quite sure why. They're standing in a little alcove outside the Gryffindor common room, and he feels like they're sneaking around on some late-night prank, but it's weird without James and Peter. He fiddles with his mask again, adjusting it.

"You know," Sirius says carefully, "these are actually what _they_ adapted their masks from. You know, the Death Eaters." A flicker of annoyance crosses his face. "But that's just because they're stupid and don't know anything about anything."

Remus's mouth feels dry. "Oh," he says.

"Let's go," Sirius says.

He leads Remus outside across the grounds and down into the edge of the Forbidden Forest, in the underbrush. Twigs snap under Remus's feet, making him twist around nervously. It feels like everything inside him is all twisted as well, and his eyes itch with the ghosts of the feeling of smoke.

"We're here."

Remus comes to an abrupt halt, almost crashing into Sirius.

Sirius's shoulders are tight as they were last night, and Remus, although he can't smell the tension in the air, can guess at it.

Sirius kneels on the grass and pulls his wand out, a movement that makes Remus want to flinch. He should be used to Sirius's dark moods by now, but he isn't.

From the other pocket of his robe, Sirius pulls out a short, squat candle. He places the candle on the forest floor, shoving it in amongst the pine needles to steady it.

He laughs darkly when he lights the candle with his wand. He mutters something in German or maybe Bulgarian, stumbling a little over the words. It doesn't sound much like any spell Remus has ever heard, but sparks leap from the wand's tip and vanish into the cold air with a faint pop.

The candle's tiny flame begins to glow a deep orange, holding itself too still for the breeze that is blowing through the trees. Then, all of sudden, there are shapes all around them, faint orange phantoms that waver and sway between the trees and just out of Remus's eyesight.

"What . . ." he begins.

Sirius presses a finger to Remus's lips. His cold fingers touch Remus's wrist, pressing hard.

The pale phantoms move around them, old faces, young faces. Remus swallows. It's weirdly beautiful, in a sort of distant, chilling way.

And then, just as suddenly as they came, the phantoms disappear into nothingness again, leaving faint orange trails in the air behind them.

"Wow," Remus breathes behind his mask.

Sirius clears his throat. "It's the Calling of the Shades," he says, sounding as though he's trying to be casual. "It's what old Pureblood families used to do on Halloween. It only works once a year. It's . . ." He shrugs sharply. "Well, I guess most Pureblood families have a lot of shades to call."

Remus squeezes Sirius's hand in his, willing it to warm up. "Hey. It's all right, Sirius." He's rubbish with words, and he doesn't know if he's helping at all, but he wants to very badly.

Sirius turns to him and grins, his change of mood just as sudden as his anger last night. "I know," he says. "Hey, listen, Prongs and Wormtail are probably waiting for us. Let's go get our real costumes on." And with a tug at Remus's hand, he's off toward the school again.

Remus follows, feeling lost and touched and amazing. If Sirius can open up about this, maybe they have a chance.


End file.
